


Homemaking

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Age Play, Daddy Kink, M/M, timestamps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More from the daddy kink 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homemaking

With Chuck in a coma and Pentecost running the Corps from his bed, there's not much for Herc to do. He ends up sitting in the chair beside Chuck's bed, works to push off the guilt he feels when he looks up at his son's too-still face. He tells the nurses Chuck would gut him if Herc read to him, so he's just got some light reading- yeah, the latest best seller, a "gripping tale of loss and the power of hope" some uppity civvie wrote about himself after K-day. Or so says the back cover. Herc hasn't actually read a single page, is only borrowing the dust jacket from one Striker's techs- former techs, Striker's  _former_ techs- because he would rather fend off questions about why he's reading that trash than risk anyone knowing the jacket's actual contents.

Books with titles like  _Malignant Self Love,_ _Separation Individuation,_ and _The Work and Play of Winnicott._ Other, shorter articles from the internet. Statistics, strategies, and suggestions.

Herc isn't even sure this what Chuck wants, the memories from the Drift frustratingly opaque, but of everything he's looked into, this feels the closest to right. The problems in Chuck's childhood- Herc never wanted to hurt his son, but he wasn't the father Chuck needed. From what he's had the stomach to read so far... That's damage enough. He wouldn't pilot Striker with a hole in the Jaeger's hull. Why would he expect his spm to fight his way through life with a hole in him?

Chuck was never an easy kid to raise, even before Sydney and Scissure. He was always running off, disobeying his teachers because he liked what he liked and had no use for anything outside it. He's still that stubborn little boy on the inside- the anger, the ego, the way he clung to Herc in the Drift- no matter how big he is now. It's always been there, if Herc had thought to look past the unmentionable bits.

Well, he's looking now, isn't he? And he's got half a plan for when Chuck wakes up- which he'll do soon enough, won't he? All in Chuck's own time, once he's let his old man sweat a bit.

* * *

Slipping into the shop, Herc's first thought is,  _What the fuck am I doing?_

Everything is a blur of colour, all four walls covered in indistinguishably soft-looking things in pinks, yellows, and blues.  _Pastels,_ a voice reminds him, in a tone that sounds a little too much like Angela on the phone with him, frustrated at her husband's inability to get what she needs without her holding his hand. _Soft colours, Herc, because children are delicate and need to be- Put it down. Don't argue with me. I know you're looking at the footy pajamas. We agreed not until he's out of diapers. Now, if you could please just get another pump?_

He doesn't have Angie to help him now.

This was a bad idea. He should turn around and fly back to Hong Kong, hide the books somewhere- no, burn the books, throw his computer in with them, and help Chuck like he's helped him the past ten years. He'll back off, wait for the boy to do something, and react to that. Simple. Neat.

Proven one hundred percent effective at not actually being helpful.

"Can I help you?"

The woman behind the counter gives him an indulgent smile, like she sees a lot of skittish menfolk coming in and needing her help- and how sweet, what's brought Ranger Hansen Sr. to her store? A ranger's baby maybe? Or something more personal? She looks like the kind of woman who'd not only never forgive her husband for considering what Herc's thinking about, but she'd knock him on his arse for it. Repeatedly.

Herc can't blame her. He'd never be able to look Angie in the eye if he found out she was touching their boy. He'd just grab Chuck and run.

God forgive him for this, because his wife never would.

In a world where his wife's alive not to forgive him, though, there are no Kaiju or Jaegers. Herc and Chuck never Drift, and Herc never accidentally fucks his kid up by trying to save him. Chuck would grow up smart and sweet- Smart and less of a pain, and Herc's the only one with nightmares.

"Hopefully." He gives her a smile and doesn't worry that it's shaky. Dads are always scared, even ones who've survived the end of the world. Weapons don't cry in the middle of the night or ask why their dad's not coming home again. "You know who I am, yeah?" It feels arrogant in his mouth, but the woman doesn't seem put off, nods quickly at him. A friendly mum, then, one of the few who don't hate him for letting Chuck fight. "One of Striker's crew is expecting- a son. I said I'd pick up the rest of what they'll need." Another round of nodding, always happy to help. If she knew what that help's actually for... "This place came recommended by name, and I'd like to get it all in one, if it's no bother?"

"Hercules Hansen," the woman chides, a sharp smile spreading over her face, "I don't know the meaning of 'bother.' You tell me what you need, and I'll get it."

Heart in his throat, Herc reaches into his pocket, fingers curling around the scrap of paper he'd scribbled his notes on this morning. He's got it memorised, but with the paper in his hand, he can't claim to have forgotten anything.

He's got a second shot at being a father. He'll be a coward twice over if he doesn't take it.

"I s'pose we ought to start with a dummy."


End file.
